


When The Day Met The Night

by subtlehysteria



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blindfolds, Demisexual Din Djarin, Din runs into trouble and gets stuck babysitting, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Getting to Know Each Other, Luke and Din meet just before the events of A New Hope, Luke helps out at Peli's workshop, M/M, Making Out, Mild Action, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Oblivious Din Djarin, Romantic Tension, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 05:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlehysteria/pseuds/subtlehysteria
Summary: “Is it true what they say about you guys? About Mandalorians?”Din shrugs. “Depends on what people say.”“That you hunt people.”“Not all of us.”Luke regards him a moment, sipping thoughtfully on his straw. “Do you?”Din plans on making his pitstop on Tatooine quick and painless. Fate seems to have other plans though when he crosses paths with a chatty desert youth who everyone seems to call Wormie.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 120
Kudos: 336





	When The Day Met The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I've had this concept rumbling about in my head for a while and decided to finally put pen to paper! It's inspired by Ngozi's [lovely art and dialogue on Tumblr](https://ngrogu.tumblr.com/post/643347274112679936/ngrogu-oh-my-names-luke-youre-a-mando) and pencilscratchins' headcanon [about Luke working at Peli's garage as his teenage job.](https://subtlehysteria.tumblr.com/post/642360852495908864)

_When the moon fell in love with the sun_  
_All was golden in the sky_  
_All was golden when the day met the night_

*

Din had just finished putting his bounty in carbonite, filing him away with the rest of his marks with a tired sigh. This one had been tricky, tricker than he’d been led to believe it would be. The mark was a rogue Duros by the name of Sul Jem who’d put up quite the fight right until the very end. He’d managed to nick Din’s ship a few times during their final shoot out but with a well-aimed shot to his knee, Jem had fallen, Din wrestling his blaster out of his grip and hoisting him over his shoulder to carry him up the ramp into the Razor Crest. Now here he was, the last of Din’s lineup frozen in carbonite in an open-mouthed scream of protest. Din never knew why they did that. You just end up with carbonite down your throat and that certainly could not be comfortable.

With a sigh, Din climbs up the ladder to the cockpit, settling into the pilot’s seat. He flips the right switches, the engine roaring to life. However, he’s barely made it a few feet off the ground when an annoying beeping starts.

Din grunts, looking at his dashboard to see what the problem is. Despite the fact that he’d filled up his tank before this last leg of his hunt his fuel tank is flashing to tell him that he’s already running empty.

Dun thunks his head on the dashboard. Jem must have shot his fuel tank during their shoot out around his ship. Just great.

Erasing the co-ordinates he was starting to put in for Nevarro, Din takes the yolk in his grip, changing course. He’s only just got enough fuel to fly himself to the nearest repair place he knows that’s on this desert wasteland of a planet. He remembers passing it on his way over, situated in a spaceport called Mos Eisley.

Out of all the spaceports Din has travelled to so far in his work as a bounty hunter, none is as well-known or more wretched than Mos Eisley. If you wanted info on a bounty mark, chances are you could always find a lead here. However, Din wouldn’t like to stay longer than was necessary and prayed his fuel tank issue would be a quick and cheap fix.

The annoying beeping escalates the closer Din gets to Mos Eisley and by the time he’s hovering above Hangar 3-5 he’s running on nothing but fumes. Gently guiding the Crest to land safely in the small space of the workshop, Din switches off his engine, breathing a sigh of relief when the beeping finally stops.

He lowers the ramp, walking down it into the workshop. Like everything else on this planet, it’s carved from sandstone, bone-white sand crunching beneath Din’s feet as he looks around for a worker. He spots movement out of the corner of his eye. His blaster is in his hand and a shot rings out barely a second later. Three droids no taller than Din’s hip squeak at the shot, cowering behind a pile of trash in fear.

Din’s getting ready to unleash another shot when a voice calls out, “Sorry sir, if you wouldn’t kill the help that would be great!”

Din raises the tip of his blaster, the droids all wheezing rusty beeps of relief.

Looking to where the voice had originated, Din spots an office through a set of grime-covered windows. A head pops up from behind the desk in the office, though the windows are too dirty for him to see the person clearly. A quick look with his thermal scanners shows someone is bustling about back there, humanoid in shape.

“I don’t want droids touching my ship,” he says.

The person exits the office, wiping his hands off on a dirty rag. He’s more boy than man, all tanned skin and blinding smiles, his eyes brighter than Tatooine’s ever-blue sky. A mop of golden waves frames his boyish face, his dusty white robes cutting a low V down his chest and cinched at a tapering waist with a brown worker’s belt.

He stumbles a little upon seeing Din, fair eyebrow rising up into his bangs. “Wow, I’ve never seen a Mandalorian before.”

Din bristles, grip on his blaster tightening.

The boy seems unperturbed, however, perhaps used to heavily-armed customers. His eyes rake up and down Din’s form. Din shuffles a little under the unwanted attention. His armour is in need of a polish and a bit of buffing, sure, especially after the shoot-out he had with Jem. And yeah, maybe his boots have seen better days, but he was still a Mandalorian and a Mandalorian takes pride in their amour.

He lifts his chin, straightening up even though he desperately wants to ask the boy to stop looking at him already.

Thankfully the boy’s distracted when one of the droids chitters at him.

The boy chuckles, chucking the rag he’d been wiping his hands on away as he faces the cowering droids. “He’s not gonna shoot at you again,” he assures them before turning a pointed look Din’s way. His brow arches in question and Din can tell he’s trying for menacing but the kid looks about as menacing as a newborn lothcat. “Are you…” he asks, no doubt fishing for Din’s name.

“Mando,” he supplies. He eyes the droids who all shrink back under his gaze. He sighs, slinging his blaster back into its holster. “And no. Not today.”

The boy’s lips tilt into an easy-going smile. He claps his hands together, approaching Din’s ship. “Great! So, what’s the problem?”

“Fuel tank’s shot.”

The boy’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Shot? You were in a shoot-out?”

Din shrugs. “I’ve seen my fair share.”

“Wow…” the boy whispers, bright blue eyes alight. He gives himself a little shake, offering a meek laugh. “Sorry, it’s just… nothing ever happens here is all. Anyway, let’s take a look at her, shall we?”

The boy begins inspecting Din’s ship, starting with the fuel tank. He winces when he sees the hole the stray blaster shot has left behind but apparently that isn’t the worst of his problems.

“If you’re not careful some carbon scoring is gonna start building on top there,” the boy points out, circling Din’s ship slowly. He mutters to himself occasionally, things like “Gonna need to rotate that,” and “Wow, that needed replacing like last year already.”

By the time he’s circled back to Din, he’s pointed out more problems than Din would like to admit to. He looks almost apologetic as he eyes the Crest up and down.

“I’m kinda surprised you’ve managed to keep her going still. She’s pre-Empire right?”

Din gives a stiff nod.

“Yeah… It’s gonna take some work but I think we can get her up and running in no time,” the boy says. “That is if you let the droids do their job –”

“No droids,” Din bites out.

The droids all recoil at his tone, the boy raising his hands in surrender as he eyes the nervous droids. “Okay, no droids.”

“Oi!”

Din and the boy both swivel around to spot a woman in her early thirties storming into the hangar. She’s in grease-covered coveralls, frizzy brown curls a mess and eyes lit up brighter than the fires of hell.

“What do you think you’re still doing here, kid?” she asks, walking up to the boy to stare him down pointedly. They’re nearly nose to nose as she points a finger into his chest, chewing him out.

The boy winces at her every jab, trying to dodge her menacing fingers. “Peli, I was just –”

“Your shift ended twenty minutes ago!” The woman, Peli, barks out. “It’s a miracle your uncle even let you out of his sight long enough to come and help me. I don’t want him breathin’ down my neck ‘cause you decided to play hooky! Give me that!” She swipes the datapad out of the boy’s hands, skim-reading over his repair notes he’d taken for the Crest.

Sharp brown eyes land on Din. The woman’s gaze narrows. “This your ship?”

Din clears his throat, squirming a little. “Yes.”

“She needs a lot of work,” Peli says, eyeing the Crest up and down with pursed lips. “Will probably be a couple hours with the droids’ help –”

“No droids,” Din and the boy say at the same time.

Peli’s lips thin out. “That’s gonna cost you extra.”

“That’s fine,” Din says. He’s got enough stored up in case of something like this. Once he’s handed in his bounties he can just restock again.

The woman seems a little peeved but doesn’t argue further. “Alright. Gonna take me most of the day then, seeing as I’m working on my own.”

Din tilts his gaze to the boy. Peli turns her attention to where Din’s looking and clucks her tongue upon seeing the boy is still there. She whacks him with her datapad. The boy yelps, tearing his gaze from where it had been fixed on Din.

“Go on, git Wormie! Before Owen has my head!” Peli yells, making shooing motions at the boy.

“Okay okay, I’m going!” The boy cries as he backs out of the hangar. He spares Din one final look before disappearing out onto the street.

Peli shakes her head, hands on her hips as she watches the boy go. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she turns back to face Din.

“That’s gonna be a thousand credits for the job and usin’ the hangar.”

Din reluctantly forks over the money. Peli stores it in one of her numerous pockets. It’s only once she’s been paid that she offers him her first smile though it’s more sardonic than friendly.

“Think you can keep yourself occupied while I’m workin’?”

“I’ll manage,” Din says, starting for the exit.

If he remembers correctly, there should be a cantina just around the corner. Maybe he can bag another job while his ship’s being repaired. The money certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Din exits out onto the dusty streets of Mos Eisley. The twin suns of Tatooine are still high in the sky, beating down on Din and causing a dribble of sweat to trickle down his back. A quick check of his chronometer tells him it’s a little after two. He’s about to start down the road to where he thinks the cantina is when someone calls out, “Hey!”

Din stops, turning to see the boy from before leaned up against the wall. He’s looking at Din expectantly, hand raised in an awkward wave.

With a sigh that speaks of a world-weary weight, Din turns his back on the boy and continues on his path. Maybe if he puts just ignores him, he’ll go away. The boy’s determined, however, pushing off the wall and quickly speeding up his pace to catch up with Din.

“What do you want, Wormie?”

The boy’s smile drops. “That’s not my name,” he grumbles.

Din doesn’t know why he’s even entertaining this conversation. He should just ditch the kid. He’d be an easy-enough tail to lose in a busy place like this. Still, he finds himself asking, “What should I call you then?”

“Luke Skywalker.”

Din falters a little. That’s a slave name, like Darklighter or Loneozner.

Din gives Luke a once-over. He doesn’t resemble the spice slaves he’s encountered here on his occasional visits to Tatooine, though Din tries to keep his business as far away from the Hutts as possible. No, Luke’s eyes are too bright, his smile too soft for him to be a slave. He honestly doesn’t look like anyone Din’s ever seen before with his startling blue eyes and golden mop of hair.

“Luke Skywalker,” Din questions in disbelief.

“That’s my name,” Luke says, sending him a wink, his lips quirking in the corner.

Din rolls his eyes, turning his back on Luke and starting down the road again.

Luke scrambles after him, keeping up with Din’s pace.

They pass a few stalls smelling of freshly roasted meat. Din’s stomach grumbles at the reminder that he hasn’t eaten yet today. Usually, he’d buy something and take it back to his ship where he can eat in peace but that isn’t an option right now especially with Luke glued to him like a second shadow.

He’s hoping that when Luke sees the cantina that he might be scared off. Only the worst of the worst congregate here at Chalmun’s. The cantina was known for bar fights and shoot-outs however Luke doesn’t seem the least bit worried as they roll up to the entrance.

A gang of Rodians are hanging about the front, chattering lowly between themselves. They hush up however when Din and Luke approach. They give Din the stink eye, one of them baring their teeth in a sneer.

Din ignores them. For those who only functioned on whispers and gossip, Mandalorians were known solely for being mighty warriors and bounty hunters. No one wants to get caught in the crosshairs of a Mandalorian on the prowl. Din wouldn’t be surprised if their little gang was wanted in a few star systems. Even if they were, they’d be small-fry compared to Din’s other bounties.

Din hovers in the entrance, looking down at Luke.

“Are you even old enough to enter a cantina?”

Luke gives an indignant sniff, nose raised haughtily in the air as he steps in front of Din through the entrance. “I am, for your information!”

Just as they enter a glass bottle comes flying towards them and smashes into the wall barely a few inches away from Luke’s head. He startles, falling back against Din’s chest

Din catches him, hands warm where they wrap around Luke’s biceps.

 _“Ulyc, di’kut,”_ Din mumbles in Mando’a.

Luke seems a little flustered, cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment as he steps away from Din. He clears his throat, gesturing for Din to go on first.

“After you.”

Din snorts, striding into the cantina like he owns the place. That’s the only way to enter one unless you’re praying for a death wish or someone to pick on you all night.

Luke most definitely did not get the memo. He looks like some school kid who wandered in thinking this was a candy store.

Din tries his best to ignore him as he makes his way to the bar. The entire room is filled with smoke, what little rays of golden sunlight leaking through the archways quickly doused in the shadows that seem to cling to the edges of the room. Music blasts from the bandstand tucked in the corner, mixing with the hushed conversations between the bar-goers slotted in the worn-out leather booths. There are two stools available at the bar. Din makes a beeline for them, settling in one and leaning his forearms on the countertop before flagging down the bartender. Luke sits in the other, jaw dropped as he takes in his surroundings.

Din shakes his head in disparity. How did he get stuck babysitting of all things?

The bartender appears, a burly looking human with a large belly and a scowl for a mouth.

“Whatchya want?” he asks.

“I was wondering if you knew of any work?” Din asks, pitching his voice low. The bartender eyes him.

“You with tha guild?”

Din nods.

The bartender shakes his head. “Sorry. Been a slow day, even for Mos Eisley.”

Din silently curses.

“Now are you going to order somethin’ tah drink, or what?” the bartender asks.

“I’ll take a spotchka?” Luke pipes up.

The bartender snorts. “Nice try kid.”

Luke shrugs. “Worth a shot. Can I get some blue milk?”

“Now that I can do.”

The bartender makes quick work of getting Luke’s drink, plonking down a tall glass of blue milk with a colourful bendy straw of all things. Luke thanks him, sliding over the required credits.

He takes the glass in hand. Noticing that Din still hasn’t ordered he tilts his head in question. “You sure you don’t wantanythingg?”

“No,” Din says, curt and short.

Luke’s brows rise but he doesn’t push it. He just slurps noisily on his straw, bopping his head to the music. It’s only when his glass is half empty that he speaks up again.

“Is it true what they say about you guys? About Mandalorians?”

Din shrugs. “Depends on what people say.”

“That you hunt people.”

“Not all of us.”

Luke regards him a moment, sipping thoughtfully on his straw. “Do you?”

“If this is your backwards way of asking if I’m a bounty hunter then the answer’s yes.”

Luke’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Woah... So you’ve been all over the galaxy?”

To use Luke’s phrasing would be a slight exaggeration but Din nods anyway. Luke isn’t wrong. Din’s seen his fair share of planets and people but no one could possibly explore all of its reaches in one lifetime alone.

“What’s the strangest job you’ve ever done?” Luke asks. He’s already vibrating in his seat with anticipation, no doubt expecting some amazing story from Din however the Mandalorian wasn’t one for talking let alone storytelling. The covert would spend evenings telling stories of Mandalore, of great battles lost and won by different tribes of Mandalorians. It’s how they passed down their history – through word of mouth rather than written down. It ensured that only Mandalorians knew all the details of their histories.

But Luke looks so expectant, blue eyes shining even in the dim lighting of the bar.

So, Din starts telling him about some of his more absurd jobs like how he ended up walking through the marshes of planet Digbee for three days on end and couldn’t get the slime out of his boots for weeks after. Or the time he ended up having to chase down and return someone’s pet Kowakian monkey-lizard to gain the only viable lead for a wealthy mark.

Luke hangs on every word, tilting further and further to the edge of his seat while Din recounts his tales. Din somehow manages to wrangle the occasional laugh out of Luke even.

Din’s given a small reprieve when Luke, having finished his third glass of blue milk, excuses himself to quickly use the bathroom. Din doesn’t know how sanitary a fresher station would be in a seedy cantina like this but Luke’s already hopping off his barstool and weaving his way through the crowd towards the bathroom tucked in the back corner before Din can voice his concerns.

Din sighs, silently wishing Luke good luck. His throat’s feeling parched from all the talking he’s been doing. How long have they been here even? Din checks his chronometer and is surprised to see it’s half past five already. Had he really been talking for that long?

Luke was surprisingly easy to talk to. He also didn’t know how to take no for an answer, always managing to finagle Din into elaborating on some throw-away detail or digging for further information about an especially interesting planet. Din’s strange stories had led to him just listing some of his favourite places he’d visited. There were the hot springs of planet Tegu, the colourful markets of Harbinge VI where Din had sampled a delicious spiced Bantha steak. Luke had especially liked the Aurora lights of the freezing cold planet Hoth and the fields of orange blossoms during harvest season on the small planet of Dowger that Din had described as smelling sweeter than any perfume. Recounting some of those stories made Din’s fingers itch to take hold of his ship’s controls and take to the skies once more. He was a traveller, a wanderer. One to never stay at any place for too long.

Speaking of taking long…

Din checks his chronometer again. Luke’s been gone for quite a bit. He finds his fingers tapping an agitated rhythm on the bar counter, mind wondering what could be holding him up.

Din scans the crowd for any sign of a golden head of hair. Luke stands out like a sore thumb in this setting being the sole spot of white in a sea of shadows and crimson.

He’s just starting to think that maybe Luke’s ditched him when he spots a small scuffle going on near the bathroom. Alarm bells go off screeching in Din’s head. He’s leaping off his barstool and storming over before he’s even registered what he’s doing.

When he nears the spot it’s to find Luke pinned up against the wall by a seven-foot long lizard-like being. They’re covered head to toe in lilac and green scales, a pink forked tongue slithering out of their mouth as they lean dangerously close into Luke’s personal space.

The lizard has a hand planted on either side of Luke’s head, keeping him firmly caged in.

“Come on, sweetheart, I don’t bite,” the lizard croons.

Luke fidgets, eyes darting about in search of help but any nearby patrons are either ignoring his silent plea or are simply unaware of what’s happening.

“I said no,” Luke mumbles, his voice shaking slightly. “If you’d please let me pass, my boyfriend’s waiting for me.”

The lizard is unphased by this new information. If anything they seem even more intent on keeping Luke to themselves.

They place a clawed finger below Luke’s chin, forcing his face to tilt up so he has to meet them eye to eye.

“I’m sure I can persuade you if you’d just give me a chance,” they whisper suggestively.

Luke flinches as the lizard’s tongue flickers out again, brushing his cheek.

Anger flares in Din’s stomach at the sight. He’s just reached them having squeezed between two portly Besalisks. Luke spots him first, his relief palpable and blue eyes pleading for help.

Din squares himself up and taps the lizard on the shoulder. The lizard huffs, turning their attention away from Luke to glare down at Din.

“And who the Kriff are you?”

“I’m the boyfriend,” Din says before swiftly punching the lizard in the snout. They cry out, hands flying up to cup their bleeding nose and subsequently freeing Luke from being pinned against the wall.

Luke scrambles out of harm’s way, skirting around the lizard to come to Din’s side. Din grabs his arm, shuffling Luke behind him instead to provide a buffer from his harasser.

“You okay?”

“I am now,” Luke whispers. He offers a wobbly smile in assurance although Din can see he’s trembling slightly.

Meanwhile, the lizard, having stumbled in shock from Din’s attack, quickly recovers. They straighten up to their full height, Din having to tilt his head back at an uncomfortable angle just to match their gaze. They glare down at Din as they wipe the blood from their nose. Plum purple blood smears across their snout and when they bare their sharp teeth those are stained purple too.

Luke stiffens, hand grasping Din’s for support.

“You’re gonna regret that,” the lizard growls.

Din takes a fighting stance, giving Luke’s hand one final squeeze before letting it go so he has both hands to work with.

“And you’re gonna regret not walking away when you had the chance,” Din counters.

In the blink of an eye the two lunge towards one another, Din using a running start and pure momentum to tackle the lizard to the floor. The lizard has an advantage in their height so the sooner Din gets him on the floor where it can’t be used to their advantage the better.

What he didn’t take into account for however is their tail. While Din has the lizard pinned down their tail whips out from out of nowhere, knocking the base of Din’s scull. His ears ring. His helmet had thankfully taken the brunt of the hit, but the lizard uses Din’s moment of distraction to flip them over, pinning Din to the sticky floor.

They grin maniacally at him, blood-stained teeth dripping with saliva, pink tongue flickering out.

“I’ll deal with you first and then I think I’ll give your boyfriend a go. He’s too cute to pass up, don’t you think?”

“Lay a single finger on him and I will make you regret it,” Din bites out, struggling underneath the lizard’s weight. The lizard’s straddling Din’s hips, making his legs useless, and they’ve grasped Din’s wrists in their large, clawed hands, keeping them firmly pinned to the floor.

“Oooh, them’s fighting words!” The lizard cackles. His grip on Din’s wrists tighten, Din wincing at the pinch.

They lean over him, looking about ready to chomp his head off. “Say bye-bye.”

“Hey!”

The lizard groans at being interrupted, looking back over their shoulder. Din lifts his head off the floor to spot Luke watching them both. He’s breathing heavily, left hand shaking where it hangs at his side, his right tucked behind his back.

“Get off of him,” Luke orders, voice low and firm.

“Or what?” The lizard threatens.

There’s a click and quick as a whip Luke has a blaster cocked and ready in his right hand aimed straight for the lizard.

Din looks down to his holster and sure enough, it’s empty. Luke must have nabbed it off him while he was distracted by the lizard.

“Or this,” Luke says and that’s his only warning before he hits the lizard in the shoulder with a blast of laser fire. The lizard flies off of Din in a screech of pain, releasing his hold on Din.

Din jerks his knee up, knocking the lizard in the stomach for good measure before scrambling to his feet.

Luke’s grinning, blaster still smoking in his hand from the shot.

“Did you see that?!” he cries.

“Yeah, real impressive,” Din mutters, grabbing the blaster from Luke’s hand and slinging it back into his holster before grabbing Luke by the arm. “But now we gotta go.”

Luke opens his mouth, about to argue when there’s a low groan.

Both of their heads whip to the lump on the floor that is the lizard. They’re beginning to stir.

Din quickly checks his blaster and yep, Luke had put it on stun. While it made sense he kind of wishes it was a proper blast. At least then they’d have a little more time to put some distance between them.

“Come on, Wormie,” Din says, dragging Luke behind him.

“That’s not my name!” Luke cries but he allows Din to frog march him out of the cantina. “You know a thanks would be nice!”

Din stops his dragging, turning to poke Luke in the chest. “I had him.”

Luke scoffs, blowing a piece of fringe out of his eyes in irritation. “Yeah, right.”

There’s a mighty roar from inside the cantina. Luke and Din freeze, then share a look. Luke grins. Din’s heart skips a beat. Luke grabs Din’s hand crying, “Move it or lose it!” and starts hightailing it down the street, tugging Din along with him.

Luke, being more familiar with Mos Eisley’s winding backstreets, leads Din expertly through the late afternoon foot traffic. They weave between market stalls and patrons alike, neither of them willing to look back to see if they’re still being chased. Luke lets out a crow of laughter as they kick up billows of dust in their wake.

It’s only once they’re near the outskirts of town that they slow down. Luke chuckles, bending over double with his hands braced on his knees so he can catch his breath. Din releases a relieved whoosh of air.

Luke meets his gaze, smile turning sly. “You gotta admit, that was a little fun.”

Din, unable to think of a smart response, simply shakes his head with a long-suffering sigh.

Luke’s smile only grows larger.

Once they’ve both caught their breaths Din looks around to see where they’ve ended up. It’s far less busy this side of the station. The closer to the station’s center you go the more hustle and bustle you’ll find. In comparison, there’s little to no other people hanging about this far out. Where they found themselves also provided them with a perfect view of desert, desert and more desert. Tatooine’s twin suns are beginning to slowly creep towards the horizon line, the sky already turning deep shades of orange and pink.

“Thanks, by the way.”

Din tears his gaze away from the suns to look back to Luke. His smile’s softened, hands fidgeting with the hem of his robe.

“For helping me back there. I…” Luke tapers off, giving himself a little shake. “Just. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Din says, voice softer than he’d like. He clears his throat. “And thanks too, I guess. You’re a pretty good shot.”

Luke preens at the praise. “Thanks! My friends and I kept pretty busy podracing and shooting target practice growin’ up. It’s not like there’s much else to do out here.” Luke pauses, his smile dropping. “They’ve all gone off to the academy now, though.”

“Academy?”

“The flight academy,” Luke explains. “It’s what we’ve always talked about. All of us flying together in the same squadron. I was supposed to go this year but…” tapering off again, Luke avoids Din’s gaze.

He seems so much smaller now all of a sudden. Compared to the bright, cocky kid Din’s gotten to know over the course of the afternoon, this boy seems despondent and downtrodden.

Feeling awkward watching him struggle, Din checks his chronometer in search of distraction. It’s six. The last of the sunlight would be disappearing soon.

“Do you wanna watch the sunsets?”

Din blinks in surprise. Luke’s giving him that expectant look again. Din almost finds himself saying yes immediately but bites his tongue. Instead, he asks, “Don’t you have a curfew or something?”

Luke shrugs, scuffing his boot in the sand. He kicks up a cloud of orange dust. “Maybe. But I don’t want to go home.”

Din shuffles awkwardly. He’s not good with people. There’s a reason he’s a bounty hunter. It’s all action first, talk never.

“Are you... unsafe?” At Luke’s confused look Din continues. “At home. Is that the reason you don’t want to go back?”

Luke sputters, hands coming up to cover his mouth. It takes Din a second to realize he’s laughing. “Oh Makers, no, it’s not that bad!”

Din coughs, muttering a few choice words under his breath. He doesn’t like being teased, let alone laughed at.

Luke’s unable to swallow his amusement, however, words trickling in-between his laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“Oh really? Cause it sure sounds like it.”

Luke places a gentle hand on Din’s arm, looking up at him with a small smile. Even through the thick leather of his undersuit Din can feel the warmth of Luke’s palm like it’s an iron pressed directly to his skin.

“I appreciate you asking.”

“...Sure.”

Luke drops his hand. There’s a faraway look in his eyes now. “I love my uncle, I really do. He just... He’s making me stay back for the season when he promised I could go to the flight academy.”

“Season?”

“We’re moisture farmers,” Luke explains. At Din’s silence, he huffs. “Yeah, I know. Real exciting work.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Luke counters, a little snippy. “Anyway, it just… It feels like I’m being shackled to the farm, to this whole desert wasteland of a planet.” Spreading his arms out wide, Luke does a quick turn, gesturing to everything around him before facing Din once more. “So I figure a little rebellion won’t hurt nobody. So I miss one day of chores, so what?”

Din huffs in amusement.

Luke folds his arms tightly across his chest, cocking his hip as he pouts. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Din says, “Just your version of rebellion’s pretty tame.”

Luke blows a raspberry in frustration. “Okay, I know it ain’t what you’re probably used to, _oh mighty Mando_ , but it’s big for me okay?”

Din raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Luke pouts a moment longer before his eyes dart back to the suns creeping closer and closer to the horizon line behind Din.

“So, do you wanna?”

“Wanna what?”

“Watch the sunsets with me?” Luke asks. He suddenly seems lively again at just the suggestion. “I’ve got this great spot but we gotta leave now if we wanna make it in time.”

Din’s first instinct is to say no. He’s already wasted enough time entertaining Luke and should be going back to his ship to see how far Peli’s gotten with the repairs. Luke must sense his wavering as he places a gentle hand on Din’s arm again.

“Mando, come on,” he pleads quietly. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Din lingers on the precipice of indecision a moment longer but Luke’s giving him _the look_ and Makers above he must be going soft because he sighs, muttering, “Fine. But it better be worth the fuss.”

Luke grins, pumping a fist in the air. “Alright! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

Din shakes his head. _What have I gotten myself into?_

“Wait here, I’ll be right back!” Luke says, walking back the way they came. He points at Din, eyebrows rising in reprimand. “Don’t move.”

Din crosses his arms but makes sure not to move from his spot. Luke seems appeased as he grins and starts jogging back towards the direction of Peli’s workshop.

Not two minutes later and Din hears the rumbling of an ageing engine that has definitely seen better days. Luke pulls up alongside Din on a speeder bike, grinning up at him smugly. He swivels around in his seat so he’s leaning back against the bike like some kind of model, ankles and arms crossed, smooth as anything.

“So, whaddya think?”

Din kicks lightly at the bike, a puff of black smoke choking out of the exhaust pipe. “You’re joking right?”

“This is faster than a regular speeder,” Luke argues. “Plus, you can’t talk with that hunk of junk you call a ship.”

Din pokes Luke’s chest with a menacing finger. “Don’t diss the Crest.”

Luke raises his hands in surrender, slinging a leg over the seat of the bike. He looks back over his shoulder at Din.

“Well?”

Din sighs but doesn’t argue further. He figures why not, with the way this day’s played out. He’s already settled behind Luke when he realises he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He could grip the back of the bike but that’ll be uncomfortable plus with the sand dunes they’ll be cresting over, he doesn’t want to risk falling off. Armour can only protect you so much.

Luke doesn’t give him too long to overthink it, however. As soon as Din’s picked his feet up Luke revs the engine and they’re off like a shot. Din, hands scrambling to find any perch, ends up clutching Luke’s robes, Luke laughing at his little stumble.

He peeks back over his shoulder at Din, grinning at him. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Din grumbles. “Keep your eyes forward.”

Luke gives him a mock salute and wink, turning his attention back to the path ahead.

The kid drives a little like a maniac, the bike’s engine chugging to try to keep up with the speed at which Luke’s hurtling them across the dunes. However, Din can’t deny the kid knows how to fly. He wonders what Luke could do with a little training and a real ship at his command. Somehow, he can perfectly picture Luke smiling at him through a helmet, wearing one of those garish flight suits and laughing as he leads his ship into a barrel roll.

Din gives himself a little shake, banishing the imagery. Though if his grip on Luke’s robes tightens a little, no one’s there to point it out.

Luke takes him to a small canyon just a few minutes out from Mos Eisley. Parking his bike at the bottom of a short path leading up to a cliff face, Luke grabs Din’s hand and pulls him all the way to the edge where the most spectacular view awaits them.

In front of them lies waves of golden sand dunes burnished bronze and pink in the suns’ dying light. The twin suns have turned a shocking red looking like two drops of blood splattered across a lilac and orange backdrop.

Din feels a tug on his holster and when he looks down it’s to find Luke already sitting watching the view, his knees hugged close to his chest. Din lowers himself down as well, making himself comfortable as they watch the suns begin their slow descent.

“I sometimes come out here early too for the sunrises,” Luke says, voice hushed. He indicates with his hand the general area of where he probably sits to see the suns rising in the east. “Those are just… wow.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever stayed here long enough to see one of those,” Din murmurs.

“Oh, you’ve gotta!” Luke exclaims. His jaw clicks closed when he realizes how loud he was, quickly fixing his gaze back to the suns. If Din didn’t know any better, he’d think the tips of Luke’s ears were turning pink.

They watch together in a comfortable silence as the suns kiss the horizon, the first dipping below the horizon line.

A sense of calm settles over them. Din hasn’t felt this comfortable in someone’s presence in… well, maybe ever.

Luke presses his shoulder to Din’s without warning. Din stiffens, not that Luke seems to mind.

“It’s been pretty lonely out here since all my friends left for the academy,” Luke admits quietly. He’s fiddling with his fingers, refusing to meet Din’s visor. “Do you ever get lonely, Mando?”

Din’s a little thrown. He’s never been asked that before. Sure, being a bounty hunter is a lonely job. Being Mandalorian on top of that is an extremely lonely path. You are always both hunter and prey. But he likes flying the Crest, likes getting to travel, to see the stars, to be his tribe’s provider. He likes having a purpose.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get lonely sometimes.

Admitting that to Luke, however, feels like a betrayal for some reason. Or maybe it’s just his own pride that he doesn’t want to risk bruising.

Luke’s watching him now, blue eyes almost violet against the twilight sky.

Din averts his gaze, watching the second sun start to disappear after the first.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs. “But I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Luke whispers. Din sees his hand move, hovering over Din’s where it's resting between them. At the last second, however, Luke pulls back.

Disappointment curls low and unpleasant in Din’s stomach.

They watch the last of the sunset together in silence, Din waiting, _hoping_. For what he doesn’t quite know.

It’s only when the last of the second sun has disappeared entirely, the sky turning a deep, bruised purple that Luke suddenly stands, dusting off his robes. “I should get you back to your ship,” he stammers, refusing to meet Din’s eye.

Din’s confused by Luke’s sudden one-eighty but doesn’t question it, following after Luke.

He’s trying to figure out what to say, how to put into words what just happened. Because something did just happen between them… didn’t it?

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he ends up bumping into Luke who’s come to an abrupt stop barely a few meters away from where they’d parked the bike.

“Luke, what –”

Luke doesn’t let him finish his question, grabbing Din’s hand and tugging him behind a large boulder. Din isn’t prepared for the sudden shift, his feet slipping out from under him and causing him to nearly fall on top of Luke. He catches himself at the last second, hovering barely a few inches over Luke who’s fallen onto his back.

Luke blinks at him with surprised blue eyes. They’re so close he can nearly see his reflection in Luke’s eyes. Din shifts, tumbling gently to the side to put a decent amount of space between them.

“Care to explain why we’re hiding?” he asks when the silence becomes too unbearable.

Luke shushes him, glancing worriedly towards the direction of the bike. “Sand people,” he whispers.

“You mean the Tuskan Raiders?” Din asks, pitching his voice low.

Luke nods his head. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, fingers fidgeting again.

Din shuffles to the edge of the boulder, taking a quick glance to see what all the fuss is about.

He immediately spots their bike parked off to the left and a few paces further on the right he sees a group of Tuskans beginning to set up a fire, no doubt making camp for the night.

Luke tugs Din back, Din falling awkwardly on his elbow. His glare must come across loud and clear through his visor as Luke winces, mouthing, “Sorry.”

“You don’t wanna mess with them,” he explains quietly, eyes darting nervously to where the Tuskans are.

Din holds up a finger in a _one moment_ gesture. He stands up, dusting himself off. Luke’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, mouth gaping as he watches Din step out from their hiding spot.

“Mando!” he hisses. “Mando, what the kriff are you doing?!”

Din ignores him, sidestepping the hand that tries to grab him to pull him back to safety. He walks down the rest of the short path towards their bike. At the sign of movement, the group of Tuskans all turn their attention to him. They stand abruptly, reaching for their collection of weapons as the crow at him in aggravation.

Din raises his hands, showing he means no harm. He signs a hello.

One of the Tuskans steps forward, hands moving in quick sure movements, asking why Din is here.

Din gestures to the bike before pointing back to where he and Luke had been sitting. He creates two circles with his fingers, lowering them slowly to represent the sunsets.

The Tuskan tilts their head one way, then the other. They look back to the rest of their tribe where they confer quietly amongst themselves. Din looks back, spotting Luke’s head peeping out from the boulder. He makes a “Come here,” gesture which Luke promptly answers with a vehement shake of his head, mouthing “HELL NO!”

Din does it again, whispering, “It’s alright.”

When Luke makes no sign of budging, Din sighs. Guess he’s going to have to do this the hard way. Stomping over to the boulder, Din grabs Luke from the back of his robe, pulling him out from his hiding spot.

The Tuskans’ attention returns to them. Din plops Luke down, gesturing that he’s a friend. The Tuskans sign a hello.

When Luke makes no move to return it Din elbows him pointedly.

Luke winces, rubbing at his ribs. Din juts his chin towards the Tuskans.

“Say hello back.”

Luke eyes the Tuskans nervously before raising his hand in a small, awkward wave.

Din sighs. Good enough.

The Tuskans eye Luke warily but quickly deem him as a non-threat.

Din gestures between the two of them and then to the bike, asking if they are free to leave.

The Tuskan from before replies, Luke frowning in confusion as he looks between Din and the Tuskan.

“What are they saying?” he asks.

“They’re offering for us to join for supper.”

Luke immediately shakes his head no, but Din stops him with another jab to the ribs. The last thing they need is to accidentally insult the Tuskans.

Din quickly comes up with an excuse, praying it’ll be answer enough. He signs his response and the Tuskans all crow in laughter. The one who’d been talking to Din gestures to the bike, saying they may pass.

Din grabs Luke by the hand, tugging him towards the bike with a nod in thanks to the Tuskans.

“What did you tell them?” Luke whispers.

“That it’s way past your bedtime,” Din replies.

“EXCUSE YOU!” Luke cries out.

Din clamps a hand over Luke’s mouth, pushing him the rest of the way out of the inquisitive Tuskans’ sight and to the awaiting bike.

Once he’s sure they’re out of harm’s way, Din releases his grasp on Luke who splutters at the taste of leather on his tongue. He warily eyes where he can see the flickering orange light of fire from the Tuskan’s camp.

“They’re really letting us go?” Luke whispers in disbelief.

“Yes, but not if you keep putting up a fuss.”

Luke pouts but doesn’t argue further. He gets on the bike, kickstarting it to life. Din settles down behind him. He hesitates for a moment, contemplating what he’s about to do. Carefully, he wraps his arms around Luke’s thin waist. Luke stiffens for a second at the touch but quickly relaxes. He sends Din a probing look over his shoulder but Din pretends to be looking elsewhere.

Luke sighs, revving the engine. They take off into the night, heading back to Mos Eisley in silence.

*

“That was impressive,” Luke says when they arrive back outside Peli’s workshop. Night has truly fallen, the air cooling significantly now that the heat of the suns is no longer present. Streetlamps have started flickering to life, pools of musty yellow dotting the main street that runs through the spaceport.

At Din’s confused head tilt, Luke does a gesture similar to what Din had done when communicating with the Tuskans.

“Oh. Well, it’s good to be able to communicate with different cultures,” Din says, tapering off at Luke’s look of wonderment.

“You surprise me more and more, Mando,” Luke says with quiet in awe.

Din’s about to reply when Luke gasps and ducks into the shadows. Din’s confused as to why until Peli appears, clapping Din on the back and causing him to stumble.

“Mando, just the man I was looking for!” Peli says, voice brash and loud compared to the silence of the night. “Work on your ship’s done. You can keep her docked here for the rest of the night.”

“Great.”

“For an extra fifty credits.”

“I’ll give you twenty-five.”

“Forty.”

“Thirty. That’s my final offer.”

Peli holds out her hand with a smug grin. “You got a deal.”

Din slaps the credits into her waiting palm.

Peli pockets them and saunters towards the direction of the cantina. “If you don’t mind, Imma play a few rounds of sabbac.” She walks backwards, looking at Din in question. “Care to join? Twenty credits are the starting bet.”

Din says nothing, Peli eventually getting the hint.

“Fine, fine,” she says, waving him off.

Din shakes his head with a tired sigh as he watches her disappear into the night.

_“Pst.”_

Din looks about but can’t see wherever it is Luke has hidden himself.

“Is she gone?”

“Yeah, she’s gone.”

Luke drops down from a small overhang Din hadn’t even noticed above the entrance to Peli’s workshop. How the kriff Luke managed to scramble up there without drawing attention to himself, Din will never know.

Luke’s landing is a little wonky, causing him to stumble and trip right into Din.

Din catches him easily, the motion almost routine at this point. His hands settle on Luke’s hips, Luke’s palms resting on Din’s chest plate as he blinks up at him in surprise.

Luke’s cheeks pinken, eyes widening in shock. He steps back, clearing his throat.

“Well, uh, I should get going –”

“Would you like to see my ship?”

Luke freezes, shocked at the suggestion. Din is also a little taken aback with himself.

“Sure,” Luke says, lips tilting in a pleased grin. “I’d like that.”

“Right… Well, uh.”

Luke makes a sweeping gesture towards the entrance of the workshop. “After you.”

Din nods, stepping through the darkened hallway. Switching his helmet to night vision, he easily manoeuvres through the crowded hallway that leads into Hangar 3-5. Luke, however, is not so lucky, Din hearing him trip up more than once. There’s a small crash, Luke cursing rather colourfully behind him.

Din chuckles, carrying on walking the rest of the way until they enter the hangar proper. The three droids from before are still there, crowded around a makeshift card table made from an old crate. At the sight of Din, they squeak in unison, abandoning their card game in a flurry to scramble over one another to hide behind the trash pile well out of Din’s shooting range.

Luke emerges from the hallway clutching his toe. He chuckles when he spots the droids’ domed heads peeking out from the top of the trash pile and eyeing Din warily.

Din’s hand twitches, wanting to reach for his blaster. But he’d made a promise to Luke and he was a man of his word. He ignores the droids as he circles his ship checking all the spots Luke had pointed out to check Peli’s handiwork. She’d done rather well without any help. Din’s fuel tank was fixed and filled; the other smaller problem areas also taken care of.

Luke hums as he takes his own perusal around the ship. He frowns at one point, muttering, “I could have done that better,” but otherwise seems happy with Peli’s work as well.

They walk up the ramp, Din’s heart thumping heavily in his chest for some reason.

Din does a quick check around the hull, making sure everything is still in its place. A quick peek at his weapon’s cupboard shows nothing’s been taken and his bunk’s also been left untouched, his bed made and waiting for him.

Luke enters the hull, jaw dropping as he takes in his surroundings. Din stands by the ladder that leads up to the cockpit, watching Luke as he walks about his ship. For some reason Din finds himself worrying that Luke won’t be impressed. However, his fears are short-lived when he notices the starry-eyed look on Luke’s face. His eyes are practically glittering with excitement upon getting to peruse the inside of Din’s ship.

The three droids peep at them from around their hiding place, heads craning to try get a glimpse inside Din’s ship as well. Staring at them dead on, Din presses the button that retracts the ramp, sealing up his ship from unwanted eyes.

That done, Din focuses back on Luke who’s doing one final turn on the spot as he takes everything in. He comes to a stop at Din’s side, trying to get a look at where the ladder leads.

“You can go up,” Din says.

Luke grins, scampering up the ladder in two seconds flat. When Din enters the cockpit behind him it’s to find Luke already in the pilot’s seat, eyes roaming across the dashboard. His hands, however, are folded securely in his lap. Din watches as, more than once, Luke’s hands twitch as if wanting to touch the controls but aborts at the last second.

“This is amazing,” Luke says on a dreamy sigh. He tears his gaze from the dashboard, grinning boyishly up at Din. Something in Din’s chest stirs. He coughs, looking out of the windshield even though there’s nothing to see but sandstone and shadows.

Luke seems unperturbed, still distracted by all the gadgets and buttons in front of him. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to fly one of these. Do you use an astromech to help you?”

“I threw it out as soon as I bought the ship,” Din says.

He looks back to find Luke staring up at him in horror.

Din shrugs. “I don’t need it.”

“So you have to calculate all of your manoeuvres and hyperjumps manually?” Luke says in disbelief.

Again, Din shrugs. “It’s not that hard.”

Luke shakes his head slowly, disbelief morphing into something Din can’t quite decipher.

“You really are full of surprises,” Luke whispers, quiet enough that Din almost didn’t hear him.

Luke suddenly stands, hands fluttering about, his eyes not fully reaching Din’s visor as he says, “Thanks for the tour.”

“Oh… uh, you’re welcome.”

With a stiff nod, Luke starts down the ladder, Din following after him. He skips the last few rungs, jumping down to find Luke standing in the center of the hull once again. He almost looks afraid to touch anything, one arm hugged close to his side. He’s still not meeting Din’s gaze and Din can’t say why but it bothers him. A lot.

“Luke? You okay?”

Luke’s head shoots up, eyes blinking in surprise. “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine!”

Din approaches him, coming to stand so close they’re nearly toe to toe. Luke still tries to avoid his eyes, so Din gently places a finger under Luke’s chin, tilting his face up.

“Are you scared of me?” Din asks.

“What? No!” Luke sputters. “Why would you think –”

“You won’t meet my eye.”

Luke huffs, blowing a piece of fringe out of his eyes. “Well, it’s kinda hard to with that helmet of yours.”

“I’m being serious here.”

“So am I!” Luke exclaims then immediately winces.

Din drops his hand, putting a bit of space between them. He doesn’t want to be like that filthy lizard from the cantina, forcing Luke to do things he doesn’t want to do.

They both stand in awkward silence, neither able to meet the other’s gaze.

Din’s mouth opens and closes, but words escape him now when they are needed most.

It’s Luke who finally breaks the silence, murmuring, “You always keep your helmet on.”

It isn’t a question, so Din doesn’t respond. At Din’s silence, Luke continues, voice growing more confidant the more he rambles.

“And I don’t know if it’s a Mandalorian thing or a you thing and I didn’t wanna ask cause it might be rude but I can’t stop thinking about what you might look like under there and it’s driving me a little crazy!” Luke gasps for air, shoulders hunched up to his ears before he lets out a slow, shaky breath.

“Are you done?” Din asks.

Luke nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yep, I’m done.”

Din regards Luke a moment, taking him in. He looks so out of place here in the hull of Din’s ship, with his dusty white robes and air of youthful naivety. It wasn’t so long ago that Din was Luke’s age, however by Mandalorian standards eighteen is well into adulthood already. One could take the rite of passage as early as the age of thirteen so that they could be declared adults in Mandalorian society. Din, whilst being a foundling, had been no different. He’d excelled in his studies and military training and had passed his rite of passage with flying colours. In comparison, Luke was just so… innocent, so _young_ and yet on the cusp of adulthood himself. Din could see the hunger for _more_ , for adventure and a chance to prove himself so clearly present in those bright blue eyes it almost felt like looking in the mirror.

Was that what this was? Kinship? Somehow the word didn’t taste right on Din’s tongue. Whatever Luke was becoming to him, it was something unknown, unexperienced. And that terrified Din.

But Luke’s still here and despite his awkwardness, he’s willing to put himself out on the limb, speaking his mind freely despite the possibility of making a fool of himself. It’s undeniably brave. Stupid, most definitely, yes, but also brave. And bravery should always be rewarded.

So Din bites back his anxiety and answers Luke as best he can while trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“It’s a Mandalorian thing,” he says. “It’s a part of our Creed.”

Luke nods slowly, stepping a little closer, interest piqued. Din stays rooted to the spot, letting Luke close the gap of distance between them until they’re standing toe to toe once more. Luke’s eyeing him closely, eyes trailing across Din’s helmet as if trying to find his eyes through his tinted visor. His hand lifts, fingers barely brushing the lip of Din’s helmet when he pulls it back. Din catches Luke’s hand by the wrist, directing it back to his helmet in silent permission.

Luke gently follows the hard outlines of Din’s helmet with his fingertips, along the hard curve where his cheekbone would be and tracing across the edges framing his T-visor. His second hand joins the first, carefully mapping out Din’s helmet.

Din stays as still as possible, breath held as he allows Luke his moment of quiet exploration.

Luke’s hands end up cupping either cheek with his palms resting in the hollowed curves.

“Why can’t you take it off?”

Din falters for a second. “I told you. My Creed –”

“Creed?”

“Mandalorians are not a race,” Din explains. “We are a culture, a tribe who all follow the same Creed. Anyone can become a Mandalorian if they are willing to abide the _Resol’nare_.”

“What’s that?” Luke asks, always inquisitive, always wanting to know more.

Din sighs, contemplating how to explain it easily. “They’re the Six Actions. They consist of wearing the armour, speaking Mando’a, defending your family, contributing to your clan, rallying when the Mand’alor summons you and raising your children in the Mandalorian ways.”

Luke nods along, thumb stroking the sharp curve of Din’s helmet.

“I still don’t hear anything about the helmet, though,” Luke challenges. He grins cheekily up at Din who sighs.

“Brat,” he mutters. Luke only chuckles more.

“Sorry, I won’t pressure you,” he says. He makes to remove his hands but Din’s catches his wrists, keeping Luke’s hands where they are. Luke startles, looking up at Din with confusion.

Din swallows thickly. His thumb strokes along the inside of Luke’s wrist and for once he desperately wishes he wasn’t wearing his gloves so he could feel the soft skin there.

“What happens if you remove your helmet?” Luke whispers.

“If I remove it in front of someone who is not Clan, if they were to see my face, then I can’t put it back on again. I will no longer be Mandalorian.”

Luke frowns, shifting slightly. His thumb continues its idle stroking along Din’s helmet.

“How long has it been, since someone saw your face?”

Din has to think for a moment, doing the calculations in his head. “Thirteen years.”

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, jaw dropping. “You – Thirteen years?! Mando that’s –”

“I know,” Din whispers.

Luke’s eyes dance across his helmet. He shifts even closer, knees knocking Din’s.

“So, let me see if I’m getting this right. You can take your helmet off, it’s just that no one can see your face?”

Din frowns. He offers a half-hearted shrug. “I guess that’s the gist of it, yes.”

A look of determination flashes across Luke’s face. He steps away, hands dropping where they’d been cupping Din’s helmet to begin a frantic search about the Crest.

Din watches him, head tilted slightly in confusion while Luke runs about the ship, opening and closing doors, searching through the shelves, all the while muttering to himself quietly.

“What are you looking for, Wormie?”

“Don’t call me that,” Luke grumbles as he searches along the top shelf above Din’s bunk. Before Din can question him further Luke makes an “ah-ha!” sound and, beaming, comes skipping back to Din with a long raggedy piece of cloth clutched in his hands.

He lifts the cloth to his eyes and begins to tie a knot behind his head.

“What are you doing?” Din asks.

“Improvising,” Luke replies with a smirk.

Din waves a hand in front of Luke’s face. Luke doesn’t react, still finishing off the knot at the back of his head. So he really can’t see…

Finished, Luke straightens up, smiling in the direction where he remembers Din is. His hands reach up blindly, pawing at thin air. Din shakes his head, guiding Luke’s hands back to his helmet.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Luke says, “and you can totally say no, but I thought that maybe this could be a bit of a loophole.”

Din frowns, not understanding at first what Luke’s getting at until it clicks. If Luke’s blindfolded, he can’t see Din’s face which means… Which means he could remove his helmet without breaking his Creed.

He considers Luke’s suggestion, weighing the pros and cons. Could this really be considered okay in terms of his Creed? The rule about keeping his helmet on had always been a grey area. How long is too long when he is alone, eating or showering? Why does his stomach clench with nerves every time he goes too long without his helmet? Is that normal? Does every Mandalorian feel what he does or is it only him that struggles with these warring concepts?

So many questions that Din assumed would always remain unanswered. And yet here’s a new one staring him in the face with expectant, blindfolded eyes.

“Give me a second,” Din whispers.

Luke nods, waiting patiently.

Din shucks off his gloves, tucking them into his belt. His hands shake as they settle back on Luke’s wrists and they both let out a small gasp when Din’s thumb strokes along the soft skin of Luke’s inner wrist.

“Mando –”

“I don’t trust easy,” Din says suddenly, words bubbling up his throat. “But I’m trusting you now with this. Can I trust you?”

Luke nods slowly, whispering. “Yes. You can trust me.”

Din’s barely reached for the lip of his helmet when Luke quickly adds, “And I trust you. Just so you know.”

Somehow, that settles the last of Din’s reservations.

With a shaky breath, Din releases the clasp of his helmet and slowly lifts it up off his head. As the cool air of the ship hits his heated cheeks, his instincts immediately bristle, begging him to tug his helmet back into place but Din fights the urge clawing at his chest, placing his helmet on the nearest shelf instead.

Luke’s hands are resting on his chest plate. When he hears the dull _thud_ of Din’s helmet being put down he reaches up hesitantly.

Quietly, voice barely above a whisper, Luke asks, “Can I touch your face?”

Din nods then when he realizes Luke can’t see his response murmurs a soft, “Yes.”

Luke moves slowly, allowing Din ample chance to change his mind. Din braces himself, holding his breath as Luke’s palms cup his face. He flinches at first, Luke stilling a moment. Luke’s fingers cause his skin to tingle. It’s almost uncomfortable, like a thousand tiny needles pricking at his skin. However, the longer Luke holds his hands there, the easier it starts to feel, the prickling feeling melting into a numbing sensation.

Din wraps his bare fingers around Luke’s wrists again, guiding his hands to settle fully, callused palms cupping his face.

“You have a nice jawline,” Luke whispers with a small chuckle.

Din scoffs, staying still as Luke explores the outline of his face with feather-light touches. He runs a single finger down the slope of his nose, feels out his thick eyebrows and nearly pokes Din in the eye in the process.

“Sorry,” Luke murmurs, looking a little sheepishly.

“’S okay,” Din whispers, lips quirking.

Luke’s fingers drop from Din’s nose to his lips and he releases a shocked laugh when he feels Din’s facial hair.

“You have a moustache!” he exclaims.

Din shuffles a little on the spot, feeling strangely self-conscious now. “Well, I’m trying to grow one.”

“How old are you actually?”

“Twenty-six.”

“I’m turning nineteen in less than a month. Still haven’t gotten off this rotten sandpit,” Luke grumbles grouchily to himself.

Din chuckles in soft amusement. “You’ll get your turn, eventually. Everyone’s given a chance to find their path at some point.”

Luke’s lips twitch into a hesitant smile.

“Thanks... I hope you’re right.”

“I tend to be.”

Luke’s hands travel up into Din’s hair. It’s matted to Din’s head from wearing his helmet all day, Luke’s fingers getting caught in the thick curls and tangles.

“Your hair’s a mess,” Luke remarks lightly.

Din ducks his head, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Sorry, helmet hair –”

“Don’t apologize, I like it!” Luke proclaims enthusiastically.

Din’s shaking fingers reach up, combing gently, almost reverently, through Luke’s golden wisps of hair.

“I like yours too,” he murmurs.

Without the tinted visor obscuring his vision, Luke looks even brighter, more radiant than Din thought possible. For a moment he wishes he could see the blue of Luke’s eyes, even if it’s just for a second, then quickly suppresses the thought. Even with the added security of Luke in a blindfold Din feels incredibly vulnerable without his helmet on. He doesn’t know if he could survive having Luke’s eyes on him like this. Bare and just so _open._

He’s never been this close with anyone before. Life as a bounty hunter doesn’t allow for much time to socialize, not that Din’s really into that sort of thing anyway. He’s never really had any of the urges some of the others in his Tribe converse about. Keeping the helmet on was a security blanket of sorts and having the excuse of his Creed has helped on the rare occasions someone did try to make a pass at him.

But this… having Luke’s gentle fingers map out his face, smile warm and bright and comforting and only for him… Well, Din can maybe start to see what some of the fuss is about.

This just feels so… _intimate_. Luke makes these things so easy for him. Talking, taking off his helmet. Why, though? What is it about this strange desert youth that has Din’s entire body tingling and head feeling lighter than air?

Whatever the reason, he’s starting to get addicted.

An idea pops into his head, a suggestion whispered based on memories of other Mandalorians with their partners within the Tribe. Could that work even without the helmet?

He’s taken so many risks already. What’s one more?

Din tilts his head down, hesitating for a second before taking the plunge and pressing his forehead to Luke’s.

Luke gasps, his grip in Din’s hair tightening. For some reason, it causes something to curl pleasantly low in the pit of Din’s stomach.

One of Luke’s hands slides down to cup the back of Din’s neck, thumb stroking along Din’s pulse point just below his jaw. It flutters at Luke’s gentle touch.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” Luke whispers in quiet awe.

“No thanks to you,” Din murmurs.

Luke pulls back and even though his eyes are covered he still manages to pull off a rather exaggerated flabbergasted expression.

“ME?!”

Din winces at Luke’s screech but still finds himself chuckling in fond amusement. This is not at all how he thought his day would go and yet any other path suddenly seems irrelevant and undesirable.

“Yes, _di’kut_ , you.”

Luke, having composed himself, tilts his head slightly in question. “What does that mean? You used it in the cantina too.”

“It’s Mando’a for idiot.”

Luke pouts. The expression is rather adorable, his cheeks slightly puffed, bottom lip jutting out. “Oh. I thought it might be –” he tapers off.

Din arches a brow in question, interest piqued. “Might be what?”

Luke coughs, cheeks pinkening as he tilts his head down. “I thought that it might be a pet name or something, okay?”

A surprised bark of laughter escapes Din’s chest only causing Luke’s blush to deepen.

“We don’t really have pet names in Mando’a.”

“Really? Not one?”

“Well, there is one,” Din says, recalling it now.

“What is it?”

_“Cyar’ika.”_

Luke shivers. His fingers grip tightly on Din’s cowl, feet shuffling a little. “That sounds nice. What does it mean?”

“Darling or beloved,” Din translates, his thumb stroking along Luke’s cheekbone on the word _beloved._

Luke shivers again and Din can hear him swallow thickly. He tucks a strand of hair behind Luke’s ear, fingertips brushing heated skin.

“If you’re not careful,” Luke warns, voice shaking up a storm, “my knees might give out.”

Din doesn’t understand why that would happen. Maybe Luke’s tired of standing? Din spots his bunk over Luke’s shoulder. He weighs his options. He could lead Luke there so he can sit although trying to guide someone blindfolded feels like a disaster waiting to happen, especially with Luke’s clumsiness.

Din figures it’ll just be quicker to carry Luke the short distance than to try and lead him blindfolded.

“Hold on,” is his only warning before he hoists Luke up, holding the backs of his thighs. Luke yelps, hands scrambling. His legs wrap instinctively around Din’s waist, arms encircling Din’s broad shoulders.

“You could have given me some warning,” he mumbles lamely.

“I said ‘hold on’,” Din says, unable to bite back his amusement at Luke’s sulking. It’s rather fun teasing him.

“Ha ha,” Luke says drily.

Din strides across the ship, shuffling them awkwardly through the doorway to his bunk.

“What are you doing?” Luke asks, sounding hesitant.

“Giving you a place to sit?” Din replies like it’s obvious.

Luke’s grip on his shoulders tightens a moment, his head ducking so his expression is hidden behind his bangs.

“Oh.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“N-nevermind what I thought. Are you going to put me down or?”

Din clucks his tongue, wanting to push the issue but thinks better of it. Luke’s being very accommodating for him right now, wearing a blindfold around a near stranger, one who he knows could be potentially dangerous, and yet is so trusting. Perhaps a little too trusting. But that’s one of the things he likes about Luke. He seems to see the good in everyone, even in a hardened bounty hunter like Din.

Carefully, Din lowers Luke so he can sit on the thin mattress of his bunk. Luke’s hands slide down from Din’s shoulders to rest on his breastplate. He tilts his head up, smiling shyly at Din.

Din gulps. He’s standing between Luke’s legs, Luke looking up at him expectantly, hands impossibly warm where they drop to rest on his waist.

With shaking fingers, Din brushes back Luke’s bangs. He leans down, pressing their foreheads together again. Luke hums, thumbs swiping at the leather between Din’s armour pieces.

“Lie down with me?” Luke whispers.

Din pulls back, frowning. “I don’t think we’ll fit.”

“We’ll fit,” Luke assures him. Din’s still hesitant however he finds he can’t say no when Luke lies back and tugs gently on his hand, whispering, “Please?”

The bunk’s small even when it’s just Din lying in it. Add Luke as well as the bulk of his armour and suddenly the cramped space feels downright claustrophobic.

Luke seems untroubled by it. He shifts so he’s lying on his side, shuffling back until his back hits the wall, giving Din a little extra room to make himself more comfortable.

Din’s never shared a bed with anyone before so figuring out a way to slot their bodies together without getting too overwhelmed by the closeness of it all is a little daunting. Luke’s patient, however, chuckling whenever a stray elbow or knee knocks into him.

Eventually, they manage to slot themselves together, Luke’s head on Din’s bicep, Din’s arm wrapped around Luke’s waist, their legs tangled. His hands being free, Luke instantly finds Din’s face again. He smiles softly as he runs his thumb along Din’s cheekbone, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

Din presses his forehead to Luke’s again and this close he can smell the scent of sweat and something sweet in Luke’s hair.

“You keep doing that,” Luke whispers.

“Hm?”

“Putting your forehead to mine,” Luke says. “Not that I mind!” he quickly adds, offering a weak chuckle. “Is it some Mandalorian thing I’m not aware of?”

This close, Din can feel the scratchy material of Luke’s blindfold rubbing against his cheekbone. Their noses brush, causing a shiver to wrack down Din’s spine.

“Yeah,” he admits, his brain failing to compute with the overwhelmingness of _Luke Luke Luke_.

“What’s it mean?” Luke asks. “If you’re allowed to tell me that is.”

“It’s…” Din’s words peter out, nerves suddenly clogging up his throat. Should he tell him? What happens if Luke doesn’t like what it means?

What if he wants more?

Another pleasant curl unfurls in Din’s stomach at the thought.

Voice low and raspy, Din replies, “It’s a Keldabe kiss.”

Luke stiffens and Din fears he’s said the wrong thing, is starting to pull back but Luke’s hands tighten their hold on his face, keeping him where he is.

“Luke?”

“Is that the only kind of kissing you do?” Luke asks, words coming out in a rush.

Din blinks back in surprise, suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar. “Um…”

“If it is, that’s okay! I like the Keldabe kiss,” Luke says, voice cracking on the word _kiss_.

“It’s what we usually do when we’re wearing our helmets and can’t take them off but want to show affection,” Din explains quietly. His cheeks are burning, and he fears Luke will feel it, will know just how much of an effect he’s having on Din.

“And if you’re not wearing helmets?” Luke whispers hesitantly.

Din licks his lips. They’re dry and chapped, his throat suddenly feeling parched. “Then, I guess you just kiss.”

“You guess?”

Din nods.

Luke’s lips curl in the corner, smile turning mischievous. “Mando… Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Din’s grip on Luke’s waist tightens, his whole body stiffening at the insinuation.

He ducks his head, suddenly feeling self-conscious, cheeks bursting into flames.

“No…” he mutters.

Luke’s hands gently guide Din’s head back up again. His smile has softened into something shier, more welcoming.

“That’s okay, you know,” Luke assures him quietly.

“Have you?” Din asks if only to get the attention off of himself.

Luke’s smile turns coy. A single shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “I mean, yeah, here and there.”

Disappointment oozes through Din’s chest, snuffing out the warmth he’d been feeling mere seconds ago.

“Oh…”

“But it was never anything serious!” Luke quickly adds as if to assure him somehow.

“And what about now?”

“Now?”

“Is this serious?”

“I dunno… Do you want it to be?”

“I…” Din sucks in a shaky breath, trying to wrap his head around the situation. Did he want to kiss Luke? Was that what this indescribable feeling’s been all along? Some kind of desire?

Din tries to picture it. Their lips slotting together, Luke’s hair spread out on his pillow like a halo while Din’s hands dip below his robes…

That pleasant warmth returns deep in his belly and _oh…_ So that’s what it’s supposed to feel like.

“Mando?” Luke whispers, sounding uncertain, brows furrowed slightly.

“I do,” Din blurts out.

“You… you do what?”

“Want this to be serious,” Din says.

Luke shuffles a little, nose bumping Din’s. “Ah…”

“That’s all you gotta say?”

“I’m a little shocked, okay!” Luke exclaims. “I didn’t think…”

“Think what?”

“That you’d like me back,” Luke murmurs.

Din reaches up, tucking that pesky strand of hair back behind Luke’s ear. The tips of his ears are bright pink and warm to the touch, his cheekbones also flushed that same lovely shade.

Din could stare at him for hours like this if he was honest with himself.

“So… do you want to?” Luke asks

“Hm?”

“Kiss?”

“Oh. Um…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Luke quickly adds though the disappointment is evident in his voice.

“I do!” Din rushes to assure him. “I just… I’ve never done this before.”

Luke’s lips tilt up into a small, pleased smile. “’S okay. I’ll show you how.”

Din nods, unable to trust his voice.

Luke leans in. He hovers barely an inch away from Din’s lips, breath hot against Din’s skin. He’s waiting for Din to close the gap, for him to take the leap.

Din keeps his eyes open as he bridges the gap, lips pressing to Luke’s. They’re warm and a little chapped from the day’s heat. They part only for a second before Luke’s leaning in again. This time Din’s eyes flutter shut, letting Luke take the lead.

They exchange soft, closed-mouthed kisses at first, Din getting used to the strange yet enticing sensation of Luke’s lips pressed to his. The first time Luke’s tongue swipes at the seam of his lips he jumps a little in surprise.

Luke chuckles, whispering, “Sorry. Too fast?”

“Just caught me off guard…” Din mumbles.

“So I can do that again?” Luke asks.

Din nods then murmurs a soft, emphatic _“Yes,”_ when he remembers that Luke can’t see him.

Luke grins, cupping Din’s jaw and guiding them back together again. Din’s a little more prepared this time when Luke gently licks his lips.

“Open your mouth,” Luke whispers.

Din does, Luke’s tongue dipping in and oh… _Oh._

Din feels a little clumsy, trying to copy Luke’s movements with his own. He surprises himself when he lets out a soft moan, Luke having nibbled on his bottom lip.

Luke does it again, nipping and tugging slightly. Din growls, arm wrapping firmly around Luke’s waist and pulling him closer, their chests flush against one another.

Luke gasps at the bite of cold metal pressed to the bared skin of his chest. Din dips his tongue into his mouth, feeling a little more confidant now. A curl of satisfaction coils inside his chest when Luke moans, low and deep.

Luke’s fingers curl up into Din’s hair, giving a small, suggestive tug. Something low rumbles in Din’s chest at the pleasurable sting of it. Luke does it again, tilting Din’s head back to gain access to his neck only to get a mouthful of material.

Spluttering, Luke pulls back, pulling an adorable face as he sticks his tongue out.

“Forgot that was there,” he mutters.

Din chuckles, fondness lacing his laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up,” Luke says, pretending to be put out but Din can see his lips begging to tilt into a smile.

Din trails his nose down Luke’s cheek, nudging Luke’s jaw so that he tilts his head up before pressing a soft kiss to his pulse point.

Luke’s grip on his hair tightens. Din smiles into the kiss, sucking softly at Luke’s fluttering pulse.

“Ah…” Luke whispers as Din continues to pepper his neck with kisses. He sucks at that soft sensitive spot under his jaw, behind his ear, the hollow of his throat, Luke all the while letting out small gasps and moans, tugging on Din’s hair and shifting closer, closer, _closer_.

Din’s just started on Luke’s collarbones, biting at the jutting bones only to soothe them with butterfly kisses when Luke cups his jaw again, bringing Din’s mouth back to his.

They exchange lazy open-mouthed kisses, Din’s hand beginning to roam along Luke’s body. Up his back, to the dip of his spine, fingers trailing along his belt to where his robe falls open.

Luke shivers when Din runs his palm experimentally up his chest, touch barely-there but searching, feeling out the soft planes of Luke’s stomach and chest.

“Mando…” Luke moans softly, pressing up into Din’s touch.

For a second Din considers giving Luke his name, desperately wanting to hear it on Luke’s lips, to kiss it from his mouth and swallow it whole.

A small part of him, however, the one clinging to the vestiges the security of his Creed provides, stops him from going through with it.

If he gives Luke his name then he might demand more of him. More than Din would be willing to give right now. All of this, while new and exciting, still terrifies him a little. He needs some sort of anchor, some show of strength that allows him to feel like he’s still in control. Keeping his name hidden is as good a show as any.

So instead, he takes Luke’s lips between his own, biting down hard while smoothing his hands across Luke’s collarbones as tenderly as possible.

Luke’s clinging to him, pressing up against him closer, closer, closer, knee slotting between Din’s legs and suddenly it’s a little too much, a little too fast, too soon, too _everything_ and Din pulls back.

Luke stops, noticing the change in the air.

“Too fast?” he asks.

“Y-yeah,” Din croaks. There’s a flash of disappointment on Luke’s face and Din instantly wants to remedy it, to pull Luke in close, kiss him until disappointment blooms into something more ardent, fervent, _passionate_. But fear of _something more_ wins out, Din shuffling back to put a bit more space between them even though he wants to do the complete opposite.

As if sensing Din’s distress Luke’s lips tilt into and easy-going smile. His fingers comb through Din’s curls, smoothing out some of the tangles.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna pressure you into doing something you’re not comfortable doing.”

Din gives Luke’s waist a quick, appreciative squeeze. “Thanks…”

“You’re very welcome!” Luke teases, brightening now. “I liked that a lot.”

“Me too,” Din whispers, the admission feeling like a secret.

Luke’s smile softens. He cups Din’s face once more, thumb dancing along his bottom lip. “I’m glad,” he murmurs.

Din leans in, pressing his forehead to Luke’s in quiet reassurance.

Luke hums. His arms wrap around Din’s shoulder, hugging him close despite the uncomfortable bite of armour against skin.

Din burrows his nose into the crook of Luke’s neck, soaking in his warmth.

“Can I sleep here?” Luke asks.

At Din’s silence he quickly adds, “I’ll keep the blindfold on, I promise.”

Din could admit to himself he didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want to let go of Luke, even if they were cramped and he was still in his armour. Something told him, something deep inside his chest, that this was _important_ , that he needed to savour this for as long as he could.

So Din nods, mumbling, “You can stay,” before nuzzling into the crook of Luke’s neck.

Luke gives him a quick squeeze, wiggling a bit to make himself more comfortable.

“Goodnight, Mando,” Luke says, words already slurring.

Din presses a chaste kiss to Luke’s shoulders, murmuring, “Goodnight, _Cyar’ika,”_ only when he’s sure Luke is already asleep.

*

When Din wakes it’s to a crick in his neck and a dead arm.

Eyes fluttering open, Din’s met with a curtain of gold. He panics for a second then immediately relaxes when memories of the night before flood him.

Right. Luke stayed over after they…

_Oh Makers above._

Embarrassment floods him but there’s also that small coil of pleasure still stirring in his chest. He remembers Luke’s hands in his hair, their lips sealed, Luke’s tongue doing some amazing things…

Luke stirs, bringing Din back to the present. His head is still pillowed on Din’s bicep however he must have shifted in his sleep as his back is now pressed to Din’s chest. Their legs are still tangled, Din’s arm slung protectively over his waist.

He wants to stay here, relish this quiet moment they’ve found themselves in, but his stomach is aching with hunger, having been ignored all of yesterday.

Reluctantly, Din pulls his arm out from under Luke’s head, replacing it with his pillow. Luke stirs again and Din fears he’s woken him up. However, when Luke turns over, he’s still fast asleep, blindfold still in place. Din watches him a moment longer before quietly creeping out of the bunk and towards the shelf where his helmet is waiting for him.

It feels strangely heavier than usual as Din takes it in hand. He turns it, staring down at the T-visor. An uncomfortable weight settles in his stomach at the thought of putting it back on.

His eyes dart back to the bunk where he can just see Luke’s feet through the doorway. He tears his gaze away from him, shaking his head in admonishment.

_Don’t overthink it._

Putting his helmet back on, Din makes sure the seal is secure before exiting out of the left-hand telescopic gate. He worries the noise of the ramp unfurling will wake Luke but another quick check shows he’s still fast asleep. How that kid manages to sleep through anything is beyond Din.

The sky’s a soft lavender as he steps out into the hangar, the air about him still, not yet disturbed with it being so early. The droids and Peli are nowhere to be seen.

When he exits out of the hangar bay and onto the street it’s to find some market stalls beginning to set up. If he squints, he can see a slither of orange where the first of Tatooine’s suns are beginning to creep up into the sky once more.

Din figures a quick walk will do him good, praying one of the food stalls will be up and running by the time he gets back.

He wanders aimlessly through the streets of Mos Eisley. Besides the stall owners, there’s no one else out, most still asleep in their beds. Din lets his mind wander too, trying not to think too much about the previous night’s events. Instead, he makes a checklist of all he needs to do once he leaves Tatooine. With a full tank, he should be able to make it back to Nevarro no problem. He can hand in his marks, collect his money and return to his tribe, no problem.

Simple, quick, painless.

Mind at ease, Din makes a loop, walking back the way he came. The scent of fresh food wafts through the air. Din’s stomach rumbles. The stall with the spicey-smelling meat he’d spotted yesterday was up and running so Din makes a quick purchase of two servings that includes a side of roast vegetables. They come in cardboard containers and their own utensils. Thanking the stall owner, he starts for Peli’s workshop again.

There’s still no sign of either Peli or the droids as he walks back up the ramp. Luke’s exactly where he left him, curled up on himself with his knees tucked nearly to his chest despite the extra bunk space he now has.

Din removes his helmet once more, digging greedily into his meal. He drinks a canteen of water while he’s at it, throat dry from lack of hydration. By the time he’s done and resealed his helmet the twin suns are halfway up, the sky changing from lavender to a bright blue. It’s still not as bright as Luke’s eyes, though.

At the reminder, Din grabs Luke’s serving and approaches the bunk.

Hooking a finger in the blindfold, Din slowly removes it. Luke’s face scrunches up, fair lashes fluttering. He opens his eyes and stares up at Din in confusion.

“Good morning,” Din says.

Luke’s lips tilt up in the corner, eyes heavy-lidded as he mumbles a “Good mornin’,” back.

Din offers him his meal and the fork. Luke’s eyes widen at the smell of food and he takes it, sitting up cross-legged on Din’s bed as he digs in. The more he eats, the more awake he looks.

Din watches him quietly, leaned up against the wall with his arms and ankles crossed.

Luke’s hair is a mess and there are red lines on his cheek from where he’d been sleeping on the pillow. There are also a few purple spots decorating his neck and collarbones. Din coughs at the sight of them. Luke looks up, arching a brow in question but Din waves his questioning look away, to embarrassed to try and explain.

As he watches Luke finish his meal, Din finds himself wondering if it could always be like this. Them waking up together, getting to see Luke all soft and rumpled.

Din’s grip on his biceps tightens at the thought. That’s a dangerous line of thinking. One he’s unwilling to follow down just yet.

Having eaten his fill and licked his fork clean, Luke looks up at Din, offering him a gentle smile.

“Your helmet’s on.”

“Pretty difficult to eat blindfolded, don’t you think?”

Luke chuckles, hand scrubbing through his hair and making it even more of a mess. Din desperately wants to reach out and fix it for him.

“Yeah, probably. Did you eat?”

Din nods, Luke humming.

“Good… That’s good.”

The silence that settles between isn’t awkward per-say, but it isn’t comfortable either. There’s a tension in the air but it’s one Din’s unfamiliar with. Luke’s eyes dart across Din’s helmet before quickly returning to his empty food container.

He suddenly stands, murmuring about putting the dishes away. Din watches him as he makes himself busy about the hull. He really doesn’t belong here among all this cold machinery and dank shadows. He’s bright, practically glowing, maybe even ethereal if Din lets himself be poetic.

The idea floats unbidden in his mind, whispering of taking Luke with him. Din entertains the thought for a second but quickly banishes it even though it makes his chest flutter and his heart sing.

How could that work? Luke would surely come to resent him eventually when he got to know Din properly. And Din is used to being solitary. Alarms go off in his head at the thought of having to learn to share his space, to be fully open with Luke and risk putting him in danger while he’s on a job.

Besides, how would he explain it to his Tribe? What would Luke even be to him? A foundling? His partner?

No… Din would rather leave Luke be, let him find his own path and ensure they both remember and retain their one good day together. Their one _perfect_ day.

One look at Luke’s blue eyes and he knows that Luke knows. He’s come to the same conclusion. His smile is sad, eyes brimming with too many emotions for Din to comprehend.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you,” Luke says. It isn’t a question.

Still, Din replies, murmuring, “Yes.”

Luke nods, looking about the Crest once more. “Sure there isn’t room for one more?” It’s a joke and a plea rolled into one.

Din pushes off the wall, approaching Luke carefully like one might a frightened animal.

“Luke…”

“No, I know,” Luke says, waving away Din’s concern with a sniff. “I know. It’s stupid of me to ask.”

Din enters Luke’s space, toes touching as he reaches out with gentle hands, one clasping Luke’s bicep, the other tilting his head up so Luke will meet his gaze. Din tries to will his words to work, to come up with something heartfelt and reassuring. It’s what Luke deserves.

But Din’s never been good with words, so he does what he does best. He uses his actions.

Leaning forward, he rests his forehead against Luke’s. Luke sighs, leaning into him now. His arms wrap around Din’s shoulders, holding him close.

They stay like that. For how long, Din couldn’t tell. They simply breath one another in. Luke’s hands feel out his shoulders, dropping to rest on his chest plate right where his heartbeat would be.

The moment is subsequently ruined when there’s a loud knocking against the hull.

“Oi! Mando! Rise and shine!” Peli’s brash voice jeers. “It’s a new day and your time’s up!”

Luke huffs, chuckling ruefully. He pulls back just enough to meet Din’s gaze again.

“I’ve gotta go.”

Din says nothing, just offering a simple nod and Luke’s arm one final squeeze before he separates from him. He presses the release button, the ramp creaking as it lowers and just like that their small intimate bubble is popped. Din can see Peli walking about behind Luke, the droids bustling too as they prepare for the new workday.

Luke remains still, watching him a moment longer. He offers a shaky smile and a small wave before starting back down the ramp. Just before he steps off however he spins, calling out, “Mando!”

Din tilts his head in question, waiting to see what Luke has to say.

Luke fidgets with the bottom of his robe a second but his voice is firm when he asks, “What colour are your eyes?”

For some reason that wrings a pained huff of laughter out of Din’s chest. He shakes his head in mock-admonishment. It’s such a Luke thing to do. Always inquisitive and wanting to know more.

“Brown,” Din replies.

Luke’s shaky smile broadens, eyes glittering at the new information. “Brown… of course.” And without further fanfare he scampers down the rest of the ramp, disappearing out of sight.

Din reaches for the button to close up the ramp again when he hears Peli’s voice booming out in a high-pitched shriek.

“WORMIE?! What the Makers are you still doing here?!”

There’s a yelp, Peli no doubt jabbing Luke with her menacing fingers as she probes him with questions.

“It got late so I stayed here for the night, that’s all!” Luke cries between his laughter.

“Your uncle is going to wring your neck and mine too when he finds out what you’ve been up to!”

“I didn’t do nothin’!”

Reluctantly, Din presses the button, the ramp slowly creaking back up into place. He can still hear Peli chewing Luke out over the noise, however.

“Don’t you know those Mandos are dangerous?!”

“I dunno…” Luke says, tone softening into something almost fond. “He seemed nice enough.”

There’s a huff, the sound of someone’s head being cuffed and another yelp.

“Nice you say. Like that Mando couldn’t knock you out with a flick of his finger…” Peli tapers off. There’s a moment of tense silence before she screeches, “WHAT THE DANK FARRIK IS THAT ON YOUR NECK?!”

_Time to go._

Din climbs up the ladder to the cockpit, quickly switching the Crest on and speeding through his checks before taking the yolk in hand. He lifts off from the hangar, sparing one final glance down through the viewport to see Luke and Peli both watching him as he climbs higher into the sky.

Luke gives one final wave, Din lifting his hand in return even though Luke probably can’t see him.

As he begins to climb higher and higher into the sky, Din looks out across the desert landscape to watch as the last wisps of pink and lilac disappear from the sky, the twin suns of Tatooine and their golden light burnishing the city and making it glow.

Luke was right. The sunrises here really were beautiful.

*

Over the years, Din still finds himself thinking of Luke from time to time. He goes back to Tatooine for jobs and in search of leads but also keeps an eye out for that mop of golden hair. However, Din never spots him. Maybe his uncle’s keeping him locked away on their farm. Maybe Luke finally got off the planet he resented so much and went to the academy. Whatever happened to him, Din only hopes he’s happy with the path he’s chosen.

When he arrives at Hangar 3-5 ten years later with a busted engine and leaking fuel tank once again, he’s only semi-surprised to see Peli’s still there, brash and fizzy-haired as always with three new rust buckets as helpers. Inbetween her berating about carbon scoring and shooting at her droids Din looks about the hangar in the blind hope of maybe, just maybe, he might spot a dirty white robe and a blinding grin. When Peli catches him in the act and asks what he’s looking for he diverts the question by asking how much patching up the Crest will cost. Peli easily drops the subject at the mention of money.

She does give him a quick once-over before he exits out onto Mos Eisley’s busy streets, saying, “You look familiar. We met before?”

Din simply shakes his head no, disappearing into the crowd, memories of bright laughter and a hand tugging his own swirling around him.

With the kid to look after and a new mission to complete, Din’s mind quickly becomes occupied with _stay alive stay alive stay alive_ , memories of Luke becoming dimmer and dimmer the more time passes.

He’s just starting to accept the fact that they’ll probably never cross paths again until Moff Gideon happens. The kid’s taken and Din, enraged, heart aching at the weight of his loss, does everything in his power to get Grogu back. And just when he thinks they’re all goners, the Dark Troopers pounding at the doors to the sound of Din’s thumping, panicked heartbeat, the figure appears.

It’s like watching a dance rather than a battle, the hooded figure with their strange green sword slicing through one Dark Trooper after another like it’s nothing. They’re graceful and sure, powerful yet eerie and when the blast doors open, they enter the bridge in a billow of smoke, dark cape flapping behind them like bird’s wings.

The last thing Din expects to see when they lower their hood is a familiar mop of golden hair and bright Tatooine-sky-blue eyes.

Din gasps, “Luke?”

“That’s my name,” Luke says, sending him a wink, lips quirking in the corner. Just like when they first met.

He’s somehow different and yet exactly the same as when Din last saw him. Still with that boyish charm and impish grin. But there’s also an undeniable power emanating from him. This is no longer the young, naïve farm boy Din once knew. This is a man who has seen and done the unimaginable without so much as breaking a sweat.

Does he even remember Din? Does he still think fondly of their day together like Din still does? Or is he just that – a memory?

Luke’s eyes narrow, fair brows furrowing as he eyes Din up and down.

“Have we... have we met before?”

Din considers lying, not wanting to risk it. But Grogu tugs on his cape, looking up at him imploringly with those big brown eyes of his as if to say “Tell him the truth.”

So he does.

“It was a while back, on Tatooine,” Din says, throat dry and scratchy. “Seems you finally found your path, hey Wormie?”

Luke’s eyes widen in recognition. The tips of his ears turn pink, apples of his cheeks flushed most certainly not from the exertion of battle. “Mando?”

Din chuckles despite himself. “Yeah. Long time no see.”

“You look...” Luke’s eyes trail over Din’s shining beskar armour. It’s a far cry from his old busted up armour he’d been wearing when they first met. “Just as handsome as before.”

Din tilts his head in confusion. “You can’t make that claim. You’ve never seen my face.”

“I don’t have to have seen your face to know you’re handsome, Mando,” Luke counters. His whole expression is softening, eyes pinning Din on the spot as if afraid that if he looks away Din might disappear.

Grogu babbles, catching both of their attention. If Din didn’t know any better he’d almost say the little womp rat looked smug.

Saying goodbye isn’t easy, neither is taking off his helmet. Luke ducks his head, however, giving him the privacy he needs. Always so accommodating, so thoughtful…

Din watches as Grogu toddles over to Luke, slipping his helmet back on so Luke doesn’t have to avert his gaze anymore.

They share a nod and a smile as Luke picks up Grogu. He cradles him carefully to his chest, a finger running gently across one long ear.

If Din shuts his eyes, he can still feel those same fingers trailing across his face, following the outline of his jaw, his nose, his lips…

Din swallows thickly now at the memory, giving himself a little shake to come back to reality. That was a long time ago. He’d missed his chance when he left Tatooine without Luke. Why should he be given another?

Luke, having promised to care for Grogu and protect him with his life, is about to walk back to the elevator when he stops and turns.

His eyes glitter, voice shaking slightly as he asks, “Come with me?”

Grogu adds a “Patoo!” Luke grinning as he corrects, “Come with us?”

Din hesitates, remembering when they were at a similar crossroads all those years ago. Only Luke had the courage to ask it. He is being brave where Din had been a coward.

So, the least Din can do is muster up some courage himself and take the next step forward.

“Okay,” he says, nodding.

Luke’s grin softens into something undeniably fond. He holds his hand out to Din, waiting patiently.

With a shaky breath Din takes his outstretched hand. Their fingers lock and it feels like coming home.

“I’m sorry,” Din whispers as they enter the elevator, the doors shutting them away from the prying eyes of Din’s comrades.

Luke doesn’t have to ask what he’s sorry for. He already knows.

“Don’t be,” Luke assures him. “You were right. I did find my path and it led me right back to you.”

Din swallows thickly, the emotions from the last couple of days threatening to spill over.

Luke must sense it as he gives Din’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Going up on his toes, he leans up, barely an inch of space between them.

Din knows what he’s asking and silently thanks him for knowing what he needs.

Dipping his head, Din presses his forehead to Luke’s. It feels so natural, so right.

“I’ll warn you now, I’m not letting you go anytime soon,” Luke whispers.

Din hums, fingers combing through Luke’s golden wisps of hair. He tucks that stubborn strand behind a burning ear.

“Good. Cause neither am I.”

“Good,” Luke says with a grin.

“Good…”

“Patoo!” Grogu adds giddily.

Din and Luke both chuckle, breaking apart only to stare at one another.

Luke’s hand rises, cupping the sharp edge of Din’s helmet where his cheek would be.

“I didn’t forget you,” he whispers, voice breathy. “You were always in the back of my mind.”

Din’s fingers wrap around Luke’s wrist. He desperately wants to shuck off his gloves, to feel that fluttering pulse beneath his fingertips once again. But that can wait. They’ll have time to catch up, Din’s sure.

For now, he enjoys simply seeing those bright blue eyes once more, set firmly on him. Only on him.

“Me too…” Din admits on a sigh.

Luke smiles, leaning his forehead once more against Din’s. Din wraps his arms around Luke’s waist, holding him close.

He’s not going to let him go. Not this time. Not ever, if Luke will allow it. Though by the quirk in his lips and the glimmer in his eye Din feels rather certain that Luke feels exactly the same.

“It’s good to see you again, _Cyar’ika_ ,” Din murmurs.

Luke chuckles. “Good to see you too, Mando.”

“Din.”

At Luke questioning look Din elaborates, “My name. It’s Din.”

Luke positively _glows_ at the admission and Din swears he sees his hair float about his head in gentle waves. “Din… It suits you.”

Din, for a lack of words, simply nods, his lips quirking in a small, pleased smile.

He could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> **Mando’a Translation**
> 
> Ulyc, di’kut – careful idiot 
> 
> Cyar’ika – Darling or beloved
> 
> Come chat to me on Tumblr [@subtlehysteria](https://subtlehysteria.tumblr.com) if you like!


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